A/N- Yay! Not a oneshot! And yes, it's Spirk. In a fort made of sheets. Working on a conspiracy theory involving a crew member and a prisoner. Aren't those two just darling? XD And a note- while reading Chekov's lines, just replace the double 'e' with an 'i' and the 'z's with 't's and the 'w's with 'v's and it'll all make sense. You all probably know this already, it's just for a reference.

"Yeah, but what if Chekov and-" Kirk stopped, freezing as the door opened.

Uhura stepped in. "Are you talking to yourself in… a tent made of sheets? Captain?"

"I'm not talking to myself!" exclaimed Kirk indignantly. He stood up and pulled Spock with him. "I'm talking to Spock!"

"Hm." Uhura crossed her arms. "You're in on this, whatever it is, too, Spock?"

"It was not voluntary," said Spock levelly. "The Captain dragged me into it."

"What?" cried Kirk, looking over at Spock disbelievingly. "Oh, yeah, pretend you've got nothing to do with it when anyone asks."

Spock ignored him.

"And plus," Kirk concluded, turning to the Lieutenant again. "They aren't sheets. Only amateurs use sheets for forts, they're too flimsy. Everyone knows that."

Uhura sighed. "I'm pretty sure those are sheets, Captain."

"Oh yeah?" Kirk challenged, glancing at his fort. It was made, undoubtedly, out of sheets. "Well, I- uh- I call them 'summer blankets'!"

"Alright, alright," Uhura held her hands up in surrender. "I'm just letting you know it's pretty late. You two should probably get some sleep if you want to be in top shape tomorrow."

"Bye," Kirk said, very intentionally, to get Uhura out of the way. He smiled.

The Lieutenant sighed again and walked out, closing the door behind her.

"Close call," muttered Kirk. "Spock! How can you bail on me like that?"

"I do not understand," Spock replied, understanding perfectly.

Kirk snorted. "Whatever."

"Are we going to go to our chambers, like Lieutenant Uhura suggested?" asked Spock.

Kirk's eyes widened with surprise. "What? Have you ever even- gah, Spock! Just gah!"

"Captain?"

"Spock, I get it that you had a bad childhood or whatever and the kids at your school all hated you, but have you really never gone on a sleepover?" Kirk asked.

"Captain, I do not know of what you are referring to," Spock said, his tone retaining all of its normal flatness.

"We sleep." Kirk's words were very clipped. "In a tent, or a fort. We ignore other people. It's really really fun. But you know what, I'm exhausted. I'm not going to go into detail tonight. Just keep in mind that I'm staying right here in my fort and you're welcome to join me. Note: don't steal my blanket."

Spock was about to retaliate with logic, but Kirk was already curling up in his fort. He looked down at his captain, who was covered up to his ears in sheets- summer blankets- and was beginning to snore. The Vulcan sighed and settled down next to Kirk.

Morning found the Enterprise crew scattered all over the place.

McCoy, Scotty, and Gaila had stayed up late in Scotty's chambers, ranting to each other about Kirk and his unconsciousness to problems around him over a bit of whiskey.

Chekov had trouble going to sleep, went through the conjoined bathroom to Sulu's chambers, got a talking-to, went back, still felt insomnia, and ended up looking at some pictures of his home in Moscow and crying himself to sleep.

Sulu and Uhura, being the most responsible on the ship, had gotten a good night's sleep.

This leaves Captain Kirk and our favorite Vulcan, who, when Sulu found them, were curled up together in their fort, Kirk snoring loudly.

The crew, for the good of everyone, decided to start at around noon instead of the regular early morning for just one day, so Scotty could rant and drink some more, and Uhura could take a shower.

The one person of the crew who wasn't taking advantage of the morning in was now sitting on the floor in front of a certain force field.

"Your eyes," said Khan. "They're red."

"Eet's from sleep," replied Chekov, taking a sip of tea from the mug he'd laid on the floor next to him.

"You were crying." Khan said it as if it was an unquestionable fact.

"Was not!" exclaimed Chekov.

"Really?" Khan sighed.

Chekov didn't answer for the longest time. "I'we been getting really homeseeck, I guess. Just on some nights, I meess zhe cold air in Russia. I meess ewerytheeng…"

"Hm." Khan shifted, slipping back into his regular uptight posture.

"Oh, I'm- I'm so sorry!" Chekov exclaimed. How could he have been so stupid? "Here I am talkeeng about treevial theengs and you don't have- your sheep was taken, your fameely and freends were-" He paused and hung his head. "I'm an eediot."

"It's fine," Khan said quietly. "It's different for you because you have something to go back to, whereas it's ridiculous for me to miss what I miss."

Chekov looked up. "You've geeven up on zhem?"

"Well, I thought I'd given up on them a long time ago, yet here I am." Khan looked very powerful, even now, in his cell. "So I guess I haven't. Not just yet."

Chekov tilted his head to one side inquisitively. "How are you so brawe?"

Khan didn't really know how to answer this; he'd never thought of himself as brave. But luckily, he didn't have to. An interruption came in the form of an irate captain.

"Chekov?" called Kirk from the stairs.

The young Russian jumped up a bit too quickly and kicked over his tea. He winced. "Yes, Kepteen?"

Kirk looked absolutely furious. "Bridge, now!"